


Reverence

by Dragonpie



Series: Mandorin Fics [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (LadyIrina AU), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Hair Pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonpie/pseuds/Dragonpie
Summary: Self-indulgent blow job fic. Corin gets down on his knees and loves it.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Mandorin Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625140
Comments: 3
Kudos: 90





	Reverence

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Family and Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758992) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> So where to start. Welcome to a new fic i guess?  
> This week has been really tough. i've been struggling a lot with different things - i haven't even been thinking about writing.  
> I am still here, but all the lights have been shut off and i can't find the strength just yet to reach for the switch. i'm working up too it. step by step. this fic is one thing i've done to get back into the swing of things, and i hope it lives up to my previous works.
> 
> REMINDER: if you read within 24 hours of posting it is likely unedited.

Corin enjoys being on his knees.

He likes feeling the ground cold and hard beneath him – _adores_ the bruises left over and the ache in his joints; the pure pain of devotion. He likes to feel small and powerful all at once – the power of reverence bleeding off his tongue, and in the curl of his spit-slick lips towards a sinful smile.

Corin likes the feeling of control. Of giving it up. Of making Dyn lose it all together.

He takes every opportunity to fall to his knees – some chances less fortunate than others. He thinks fondly on times he has been pulled up by his shoulders – even once by his hair – pushed against a wall and told roughly that this wasn’t the time. Force to hold his tongue and push his hunger aside despite the press of Dyn’s cock hard against his hip, a now automatic reaction to Corin – to the way he holds himself steady at the edge of a thread, wires and frayed. A mixture of wide eyes and heavy breaths and terrible suggestions, leaving Dyn to be the voice of reason until he isn’t.

Sometimes Corin gets lucky and they have a bit of time. In those situations, he works quickly; barely has Dyn out of his pants before swallowing him down – eyes closed around a deep exhale. Relef as the hunger just beneath the surface threatens to break his skin. In these times Corin is all teeth and tongue; quick movements, barely stopping to gasp for air in between long strokes that drive Dyn’s cock right down his throat. He rocks his own hips against nothing, hopelessly worked up by the hands tugging at his hair, the groans escaping Dyn, the push and pull until it’s too much to take.

Corin likes the hot and heavy.

He likes the urgency. The desperation. The thought in the back of his mind – and in Dyn’s mind no doubt – that they could run out of time. Stopping mid-mission, mid hunt, mid _rescue_ for a few filthy seconds of passion is always an immeasurable rush. It leaves Corin sated for hours – if he’s lucky even a full day before his stomach is growling for more.

Today they have more time – hours of it in fact. Safe and sound in the covert, the child fitting in amongst the foundlings, happy to stay under their care long after drifting off.

Dyn isn’t surprised when he is pushed against a wall – mere seconds after entering their shared room. He lets out a soft sound, an expletive in Mando’a, a groan that sounds just like _Corin_ , when they’re pressed together – Corin’s hand wedged between them palming his growing erection through his pants.

Corin offers a smile. _Sweet._ A soft kiss to the cold beskar of Dyn’s helmet. A heady whisper of _“I missed you,”_ as he sinks to his knees with the patience of a starving man.

Dyn leans his head back against the wall with an audible thud.

“I was only gone a few minutes.”

Corin isn’t listening, nimble fingers working to undo the ties of Dyn’s pants. He looks up with wide eyes, locks his bottom lip just slow enough for the movement to catch Dyn’s gaze. The act is every bit as thrilling and Corin plays it up with a gasp when he finally has his hand around Dyn’s length.

“Kriff I always forget how big you are.”

He absolutely adores the embarrassed grunt, the turn of Dyn’s head, and the slight shift of weight. Corin enjoys the flustered response almost as much as he loves the weight of Dyn’s cock in his hand – and as if he could ever forget the size of it; the fingers of one hand barely enough to wrap around the base.

Corin wastes no time freeing Dyn’s erection, through he wastes valuable time just _looking._ The sight of it makes Corin’s mouth water, throat aching to be filled. A low rumble in the bottom of his stomach shudders through his body, eyes catching on the first small glimmer of precum – before they’ve even done anything; at this point just the promise is enough.

He leans in just that little bit further, fingers wrapped tight around the base to keep it steady as he takes the tip into his mouth. Corin closes his lips around the head, trapping a heady moan inside his throat. He flicks his tongue out just barely – collecting the taste of bitterness in the back of his mouth – before sinking down as slow as he can force himself to go.

 _“Corin,”_ his name a mere gasp, gloved fingers clenched into fists against the wall. The still of Dyn’s hips a testament to his self-control.

Corin loves that. He loves being the messy one – the one desperate for it, the one practically begging _on his knees_ for just a taste. His heart is filled with wickedness, body a medium to express it. His eyes are filled with worship, gazing up with pure adoration as he drives himself up and down on Dyn’s cock, taking more and more each time.

Corin swallows too fast, choking on a breath of air as he tries to take the entire length in one go without putting the work in. He pulls away moments later and tries again before catching his breath; pulling back when the tip touched the back of his throat.

Corin keeps a hand around the length at all times, keeps a rough pace as he frantically tries to breathe – absolutely trills at the small thrusts of Dyn’s hips, the sounds that leave him, the soft hand that falls to rest reluctantly on his head, pulling him back into place.

“you’re greedy,” he grumbles, even when it’s his hand tightening in Corin’s hair, leading him back towards his dick. Corin drags his tongue in long, languid strokes, collects the taste of salt from Dyn’s skin, savours the familiar flavour as he is pushed to swallow the head – and further down the length.

Corin closes his eyes and give in to the gentle push and pull. He swallows down gasps of air each time he’s pulled off, and holds his breath inside his chest when Dyn keeps his head in place, ach time dragging him further down.

It’s always like this’ Corin loses his patience and Dyn takes control – too good at pretending the sound of Corin choking nearly sends him over the edge. He drags it out, guides Corin into a steady pace, guiding him little by little to swallow down the entire length until his mouth is wrapped taut around the base with Dyn grinding against his face – small aborted thrusts pushing his cock impossibly further until Corin begins to struggle and wretch.

When Corin pops off he only takes a moment before he’s back.

 _He’s the greedy one?_ Maybe that’s true, but Dyn is every bit as greedy; he’s just better at hiding it. But now with ragged breaths and bitten off sounds – the almost violent force of movement pushing into Corin’s mouth, the pull of his fingers in Corin’s hair, reverence in it’s own right.

“Corin,” his name a warning.

Corin doesn’t stop. He keeps pushing, bobbing his head up and down, hips shifting against dead air, body squirming with the weigh of hunger in his belly. He’s been waiting for this – a near constant on his mind since the last time he had this; often times thinking of nothing but the emptiness that consumes him on long days. The stretches of time when his skin longs for a harsh touch and something deep inside of him cries out to be fed –

And when he finally gets it Corin feels a chasm filled – a deep hunger ebbing towards an unreadable end. A monster sated, but never truly full.

Dyn pulls him back abruptly – knows how they both like it. Knows Corin likes to taste it on his tongue – has yet to admit he likes to watch Corin swallow. He holds Corin in place with a grip so tight it hurts, and brings himself to complete with frantic strokes.

Corin can do nothing but watch and wait. He sticks his tongue out, opens his mouth wide and lowers a hand to push the heel against his own aching cock. It doesn’t take long. The first spurts of cum hit his tongue hot and wet. The taste has him closing his eyes in pure ecstasy, grinding against the weight of his own hand as he brings himself off, quick and messy. He tries to lean closer, wants to feel it coming straight from the source as he comes apart. He’s kept in place until it’s over and his mouth is full, throat locked to keep the mess inside. He looks up with tear rimmed eyes – can feel the track of tears having already spilled – and quirks his mouth in a smile.

Dyn makes a sound, pushes a finger over Corin’s bottom lip, collecting a few stray drops only for them to be licked up. Corin closes his mouth and swallows dutifully, eyes closing in pure bliss. He hears Dyn lean back, helmet hitting the wall.

“You’re too much,’ he groans.

Corin smiles from his place on the ground, body heavy with an onslaught of exhaustion and satisfaction. He can feel bruises forming, and when he rises to his feet his joints almost scream. He leans heavy against Dyn, wrapping his arms around strong shoulders.

“Help me shower?”

Dyn wraps an arm around his waist, pulls him closer, cock still half hard and pressing against his hip. He hums thoughtfully, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“The child won’t be back until tomorrow – we’ve got time.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic and would like to see others like it please consider sending me some hate mail (or memes) on Tumblr @softdramahoe  
> i have anon turned on (pretty sure) so don't be afraid to reach out and roast me!


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